


‘Cause most of us are breathing through corrupted lungs

by allyouneedisloveandtea



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barbara is just kind of there, Harry goes through a break up, Liam is a protective puppy, Louis thinks Harry is really interesting, M/M, Niall sleeps on the floor and in a bathtub, Zayn thinks Liam is really pretty, lots of angst but it ends well, mentions of self harm, sort of, this is my first one just ignore these tags okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyouneedisloveandtea/pseuds/allyouneedisloveandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> Harry drinks a lot to forget about a lot of things. Louis would like to know why he cares so much. <i></i></i> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Or, "Louis is a bartender from France and Harry is a regular."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	‘Cause most of us are breathing through corrupted lungs

**Author's Note:**

> Lord almighty I have finally written a fic. This is my first one please be gentle. 
> 
> My [beta](http://frickfrickpogostick.tumblr.com) is better than your beta and you should go look at her blog right now. (She also taught me how to give you that lovely link because she is an angel).
> 
> The title is from the song Youth by Daughter and I listened to it a lot while writing this so if you would like I would give it a listen while you read. xx

*

The first time Louis sees Harry, he’s at the end of his shift, cleaning the last of his row of shot glasses with a white towel.

He sees a tall boy, all broad shoulders and long legs, hair tucked under a beanie and coat wrapped tight around his body. The boy sits down in Niall’s section, and Louis sighs.

“Looks like another sad one,” he tells Liam, who’s leaning against the bar beside him.

“Niall will handle it,” Liam replies, looking to Louis with a smile. “I’ll be in late tonight. I’m here til closing all week.”

“Be careful coming home,” Louis leans in to press a kiss to the side of Liam’s head, leaving him without another word.

*

The second time Louis sees Harry, it’s snowing. He comes in around the end of his shift again on a Thursday, bringing in a gust of cold wind and a few stray flurries. When he looks up and spots Louis watching him from behind the bar, he smiles briefly, before going to sit in his usual seat on Niall’s side.

“Niall,” Louis holds a hand up to stop his friend from going closer to the sad boy. “What’s his story?”

“That’s Harry. Bad break up,” Niall answers sorrowfully, shaking his head. He moves on and starts making a drink, setting it down in front of Harry. Louis stops watching his hands move long enough to catch Harry looking at him again, making him startle. Even from across the room in the dim light, he can tell his eyes are a piercing green, watching him curiously.

Louis leaves before he can think anything of it.

*

“I want to take your shift tomorrow night,” Louis tells Niall on a Sunday while they sit together playing FIFA on the couch.

“Sounds alright,” Niall agrees easily. “Barbara’s been wanting to go see a movie anyway, so you’d be doing me a favor. Thanks mate.” 

“Anytime,” Louis answers, hoping the look Liam tosses him from his arm chair doesn’t mean what he thinks it does.

*

The third time Louis sees Harry, he’s coming in to start his shift and Harry is wearing a green coat. He hesitates before going up to him, clearing his throat to get Harry to look up.

“What’ll it be?” He asks, voice coming out quieter than he means it to. Harry tilts his head at him, peering at him curiously.

“You’re not Niall,” is all he says at first, staring at Louis with eyes the color of spring. His hair is down and unruly tonight, hanging in curls around his face and neck.

“No, m’not,” Louis even tries a smile, but Harry only stares.

“Just give me tequila,” Harry mumbles, looking back down at the bar.

“You got it, love,” Louis turns around before he can watch Harry’s head snap up at his words. When he turns back with his drink, he misses the way Harry smiles into his fist.

*

“Is there any reason you’ve been switching shifts with Niall so much, Lou? Anything you want to talk about?” Liam has his serious face on, which only makes Louis groan.

“You are not my mother, Liam.” He reminds him, keeping his focus on his bowl of cereal. Darcy, his cat, sits on his feet under the table, purring happily when he wiggles his toes.  

“You’re eating breakfast at three in the afternoon,” Liam looks so concerned it must be painful, his face scrunched up sadly. “Someone’s got to say something.”

“You never used to question Niall about his sleeping patterns,” Louis glowers, staring at their chipped dining room table. He will not meet Liam’s eyes. Meeting his eyes always means defeat, because Liam is secretly a puppy. Louis has yet to figure out how he lives in the body of a man, but those are mere details.

“That’s because Niall is Irish, Lou. You didn’t used to be like this, I just-,” Liam pauses and reaches out, touching Louis shoulder gently. “All I want is to know you’re alright.”

“I’m pretty sure that was a racist comment, I’m telling Niall.” At the look he receives, Louis rolls his eyes. “I am fine, Liam.” He even forces a smile. “Nothing is wrong.”

He knows Liam doesn’t believe him, because he doesn’t believe himself.

*

Louis doesn’t know what it is about Harry that has him so intrigued. He doesn’t know if it’s the way he talks, the way his words slur around the edges after his third drink or the way his fingers drum along the bar to the music playing around him. Louis doesn’t know what it is about Harry that has him wanting to know more, but _God_ , he does.

*

“I like your accent,” Harry tells him one night when he’s feeling up for conversation. “It’s very French.”

“Thanks, love,” Louis refills his glass with an easy smile.

“I also like your arse,” Harry admits, “but that’s inappropriate.”

“Time for that cab then, love?” Louis asks with a barely concealed smirk, watching Harry nod.

*

“Where are you from?” Harry asks on a different night, one where he asks for less alcohol and instead watches the people around him.

“Paris.” Louis shrugs at Harry’s scoff. “I can’t help being unoriginal, love.”

“Give me another drink,” Harry pushes his glass towards him with a grin. “Please.”

*

“Are you ever going to tell me what it is that has you in here every night?” Louis asks finally, leaning over the counter to look Harry dead in the eye.

“Probably not,” Harry shrugs.

*

“Have you ever been in love?” Harry asks on tequila shot number six.

“No,” Louis answers carefully, watching him warily.

“I have,” Harry sneers. “It fucking sucks.”

“I bet,” Louis makes to turn away from him, but Harry has more to say.

“Are you one of those annoying blokes who thinks he’s above being in love? Do you think it’s overrated or something?” He’s frowning deeply now, voice critical. 

“No,” Louis answers again, turning back to raise an eyebrow at Harry. “Not a lot of people want to get involved with damaged goods though, I’m afraid.”

“Whatever,” is all Harry has to say about that. Louis pretends not to notice the way Harry’s eyes drop to his wrist.

*

Most nights Harry likes to drink until he can’t get up and usually he lets Louis call him a cab. Tonight he sits and swings his boots into the counter, watching Louis make drinks for the few other customers who stop by.

“Do you need anything else, love?” Louis asks him, leaning against the bar after he’s refilled his glass. He lost count after about the tenth one. Harry smiles at him with glassy eyes.

“Have you ever asked what my name is?” He asks, slurring only slightly.

“I don’t usually ask for names,” Louis begins, thoughtful, and doesn’t mention that Niall has already told him. “Not unless people offer them to me.”

“I’m Harry,” Harry tells him, blinking sleepily.

“Hello, Harry.” Louis goes to turn away, but Harry surprises him, speaking up again. He isn’t usually so genuinely talkative.

“Can you make me a glass of water, Louis?”

*

Four in the morning finds Louis sitting on one of the couches in the back of the bar, the lights turned off and the doors locked. Harry sits across from him, coat left on the barstool he abandoned and boots sitting on the floor beside him.

“What is it you do, Louis? Besides make drinks for losers, that is,” Harry asks, watching Louis with his careful eyes and tilted head. Louis’ noticed that’s how he looks at most things.

“I went to uni for a while,” Louis starts, fingers drumming over his knees. “Hated that though, so I dropped out. Now I work here.” He gestures around them at the quiet room, shrugging. “Not much else to it.”

“Why did you move to London?”  Harry asks next.

“France is very quiet,” Louis admits after a minute of thought. “It’s too quiet for me.”

“Those who don’t like the quiet don’t like to be alone with their own thoughts,” Harry murmurs, looking down.

“Those who drink don’t want to deal with their problems,” Louis retorts, smiling when Harry does.

“Touché.” Harry takes a sip from his water and leans back in his seat, eyes glittering brighter then Louis has ever seen them.

“What do you do then, Harry? Besides hang out in expensive pubs drinking expensive drinks,” Louis raises an eyebrow in challenge, hoping Harry will keep smiling at him.

“I write music, mostly,” Harry drops his eyes and Louis feels a little like he shouldn’t have asked. “I used to live in Holmes Chapel. I was playing at a few bars for a while, now I don’t.”

“Why’d you stop?” Louis knows right away that he should stop pressing for information, but Harry doesn’t stop him.

“I made the mistake of dating my manager,” his shoulders slump as he talks, his body shrinking in on itself. “He was the one getting me gigs, and then one day he didn’t want to help me anymore. He kicked me out, so now I live on my friend’s couch. At least until we can find a place big enough for both of us.”

“Seriously?” Louis asks, incredulous. “Fuck, that’s terrible. Sorry I asked.”

“I was waiting for you to,” Harry shrugs it off, but then he stands. “I should get going, my friend’ll worry.”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis doesn’t tell him to stay because he doesn’t think he could handle Harry telling him no.

*

Louis stops working the night shift. It doesn’t keep his mind from drifting to green eyes and curls, but he thinks if he ignores it long enough, it’ll go away.

*

Liam watches Louis carefully, eyes full of concern when he comes home late without having gone to work.

Niall notices the change but stays quiet, sharing looks with Liam across the dinner table when one chair is empty and music can be heard coming from Louis’ room.

“We’ve got to do something,” Niall says one night, sitting beside Liam on the couch. Darcy sits between them, purring contentedly. “I don’t want him to get bad again.”

“Knowing what’s going on might help,” Liam frowns, pausing their video game to run a hand over his face. “I don’t understand what happened to him, he was doing so well.”

“I think it might have to do with Harry,” Niall confesses, twisting his fingers in his lap restlessly.

“Who the hell is Harry?” Liam asks accusingly. “Has he been seeing someone I didn’t know about?”

“Not seeing, really,” Niall continues, looking away. “Harry comes into the bar a lot, he has some issues you know, the usual. Louis started taking my shifts and I didn’t think anything of it, but maybe he was doing it to see Harry more. But he’s back to working mornings and now he’s like this again.”

“You’re not serious,” Liam shakes his head. “Lou is this strung out over a regular? He can’t even know him that well. That doesn’t make any sense, Ni.”

“I’m just saying it’s a weird coincidence, that’s all.” Niall stands up to go to the kitchen, shaking his head at Liam.

*

“Lou,” Liam stops him on his way out the door on a Friday, fingers around his arm.

“What?” Louis asks, harsher than he means to. He regrets it, the hurt look in Liam’s eyes makes him want to take it back. He doesn’t.

“Where are you going?” Liam asks, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms across his chest. He’s standing too close, so that Louis has to look up at him even though he knows he hates it.

“Out,” Louis turns away, slipping out the door before Liam can stop him. He ignores Liam calling his name as he slams it shut.

*

It’s dark in the club, the lights pulsing rhythmically across the sea of dancers. Louis moves through it numbly, ignoring the grabs at his waist as he goes. He reaches the bar and orders vodka, straight up, simple but effective. His brain whirs and he holds the bar to keep himself grounded in the moment. He’s too busy focusing on his breathing to feel someone poke him in the side, only looking over when he hears his name.

“Excuse me,” a voice breaks across the noise in his head. “Are you Louis?”

“Who’s asking?” He turns his eyes to the person beside him, losing his train of thought when he realizes he’s in the presence of a model. The man holds out his hand, muscles moving under the leather of his jacket, tattoos peeking out at the sleeve. Louis stares at it with a confused tilt of his head.

“I’m Zayn,” the model tells him, dark eyes narrowed as he lowers his arm. “I need to talk to you about Harry, my roommate.”

“Harry?” Louis asks, playing dumb. If he’s run into the ex-boyfriend and this is what he’s got to go up against, he’d really rather not, especially drunk. “I don’t know any Harrys.”

“Liar,” Zayn tells him, shaking his head. His hair shifts back into place perfectly. Louis hates him.

“I know you work in the bar across the street from my flat, Harry goes there all the time.” Zayn continues. “Did you say something to him? He was talking about you all the time, and then he just stopped.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, mate,” Louis shrugs. “He was just a guy who sat in my section.”

“He was doing really good, arsehole,” Zayn shoves a finger into his chest, making Louis jump. “I don’t know if he told you about his break up or not, but he was a fucking wreck. Harry doesn’t deserve to be a wreck. And then he met you, started talking about this nice bartender with blue eyes and a great arse. Then he came home one morning and he was back to being a wreck.” His voice drops darkly at the end as he leans into Louis space. He smells like spray paint and cigarettes.

“I don’t like when Harry is hurting,” he tells Louis, close to his face. It sounds like a warning.

“I didn’t do anything,” Louis explains quickly. “We weren’t even close. We talked a bit, sometimes. He told me about what happened with his ex, left, and I haven’t seen him since. I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“Well, you did.” Zayn leans away, face losing some of its venom at Louis’ story. “He was here with me, but he left when he spotted you in the crowd. I figured you fit the description enough to be the same guy.”

“Is there something you want me to do?” Louis feels like this whole thing is a bit dramatic; the party around them, the loud music, and the stupidly beautiful friend of Harry standing in front of him.

“I want you to fix this,” Zayn answers after a beat of silence.

“I don’t even know where—,”

“Handle it,” Zayn points a finger at him again as he interrupts Louis’ attempt at an excuse. Then he turns and evaporates into the crowd, leaving Louis standing alone at the bar.

*

It’s cold outside when Louis finally makes it out of the club, stumbling against the bricks of the buildings as he walks. He’s not so much drunk as tired, his legs feeling heavy as he places one foot in front of the other down the sidewalk.

His coat isn’t warm enough to handle the wind that whips around him, making him shiver. The streetlights above him glow like candles, illuminating the shops and homes around him in soft yellow light. He’s passing one of his favorite late night bakeries, glancing in to see if there’s anything his sweet tooth could be secretly craving, when he spots a familiar head of curls sitting at a table towards the back.

He’s inside before he can second guess his actions, the alcohol making him brave.

“Harry,” he says once he’s close enough. This is the first he’s seen of him in a little over a month and Harry looks startled to see him now. Not upset per se, but confused, maybe.

“Louis?” Harry asks, his voice soft. His hair is back in a beanie, stray curls falling out on his cheeks.

“Do you want to go out?” Louis thinks that he has never felt more numb than he does right then, Harry blinking his big dumb eyes at him.

“What?”

“Out,” Louis repeats. “Out as in on a date. With me. Dinner or something.” Sentences are rather hard to construct when Harry is watching him so closely, something Louis didn’t know until now.

“I don’t like dinner dates,” Harry looks down and then back up. “There’s a band playing at a bar I used to go to on Friday. I was thinking about going to that.”

“Perfect,” Louis nods. “We can do that then.”

“Okay,” Harry nods too, smiling a little. Louis nods again. Harry nods once more, as well. 

“I should get your number,” Louis finally remembers what it means to be a human, digging his phone from his back pocket. He hands it over to Harry, who puts his number in with quick fingers. When he gives it back, their hands brush just a beat too long, and Louis take a step backward.

“I’ll see you Friday,” he’s already turning away from Harry, resisting the urge to bolt.

“Bye, Louis.” Harry tells his back, but Louis is already out the door.

*

“A _date_?!” Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen Liam’s eyes quiet as big as they are after he tells him about Harry. Personally, he feels the focus should be on helping him pick out pants for the date, but Liam seems to be taking a different route. 

“You didn’t even tell us you liked him,” Liam continues, with a more hurt expression. “We haven’t even met him.”

“Niall knows him,” Louis points out, twisting around in his third pair of pants in his mirror.

“Niall,” Liam begins, but Niall throws a chip at his face.

“I don’t even want to fucking hear it,” he glares at Liam darkly. “I warned you weeks ago. You told me I didn’t make sense.” He turns his face away, nose in the air.

“Oh,” Liam seems to remember the facts quickly after that. “Sorry, Ni.”

“I forgive you,” Niall smiles, throwing another chip. Louis groans loudly.

“Stop flirting and help me pick an outfit,” he complains, tossing yet another unworthy t-shirt to the side.

“You’re such a girl.” Niall rolls his eyes, shoving his bag of chips into Louis’ hands before disappearing into the closet. He comes back out a moment later, holding white jeans and a red shirt.

“White jeans?” Louis starts to protest upon seeing them, but Niall refuses.

“Mate, if you had had these on when we met, our friendship would have had a very different beginning.” With that, Niall snatches back his bag of chips and leaves the room. From his spot on the bed, Liam nods sagely.

“He’s right, those pants change people. I would fuck you in most things, but I would especially do you in those.”

*

Louis wears the pants.

He waits for Harry outside of the club like they had discussed, shivering slightly despite his black jacket.

“You didn’t have to stay out here,” Harry comes up behind him, making him turn. “It’s colder than I thought it would be.”

He’s wearing the green coat Louis loves so much, the one that falls past his knees and makes him look incredibly tall. Underneath, he wears a plain white shirt and black jeans that look too tight to be comfortable. His brown boots knock together nervously under Louis gaze.

“I’m alright,” he says, suddenly feeling very warm. Harry puts a hand on his back and walks with him through the door. Inside, a crowd is growing, people on a stage setting up equipment. Harry leads him to an empty space at the bar and stands behind him once they reach it. He leans over Louis’ shoulder to order their drinks, his hand staying pressed gently to his lower back.

“You’ll like the band,” Harry stays leaned into his space as they drink, smiling. “At least I hope so, if you hate it we can always leave.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Louis replies, too busy studying the chains around Harry’s neck to really pay attention as he continues to talk. He looks up when Harry laughs, his face turning red.

“Shit,” Louis blinks hard, laughing at himself as well. “What did you say?”

“You look amazing,” Harry is still laughing when he leans in again, this time to press a kiss to the corner of Louis mouth. The look on his face when he pulls back tells him he didn’t really mean to do it. Louis reaches out to string his fingers through Harry’s necklaces to tell him it’s okay. Harry looks relieved and also endearingly confused, turning his face away even as he steps just a bit closer.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Louis lets his hand stay against Harry’s chest, feeling his heart beating beneath his palm. It feels intimate in a way he isn’t used to and it makes him want to run. He stays instead, looking up at Harry as his eyes scan the room. He catches the moment Harry’s face grows hard, jaw tightening and eyes darkening in anger.

“What is it?” Louis turns his head to look as well, but sees nothing except the growing crowd of people. He turns back to Harry. “Harry? Is something wrong?”

“Can we go?” Harry asks instead of giving him an answer. “Would you mind if we went somewhere else? Didn’t you want to go to dinner?”

“You said you hated dinner dates?” Louis tries not to sound hurt at the thought of Harry being unhappy with him, his brain going over everything he’s done since Harry arrived, wondering what exactly it is he’s done wrong—

“Is that what he told you?” A voice interrupts from behind Louis, making Harry flinch. “You never used to tell me not take you to dinner.”

Louis knows who he will find behind him before he turns around, his face shifting into a scowl.

“What are you doing here, Grimshaw?” Louis spits, turning to face Nick reluctantly.

“What am _I_ doing here?” Nick almost laughs. “I work here, darling. I should be asking what you’re doing here with Harry.”

“We’re on a date,” Louis starts, just before Harry kicks him in the foot. Not too hard, but enough to make him look back at him.

“A date?” Nick sneers. “How lovely. It’s good to see you Harry, you look well.” He turns his attention to Harry, who still has his body mostly hidden behind Louis.

“I’ve missed you, love. You don’t come around anymore.” Nick adds when Harry doesn’t respond, and Louis turns back around with flashing eyes, realization finally dawning on him.

“Is this the guy?” He asks Harry, trying to keep his voice low. “ _Grimshaw_ is the guy? Oh _fuck_ no, fuck,” he turns back to Nick with anger in his eyes.

“You son of a bitch,” he shoves him roughly, Nick stumbling back into a couple behind him.

“Louis, no,” Harry tries to interrupt, but Louis ignores him.

“You fucking son of a bitch,” Louis repeats, stepping closer to Nick again. He stands taller than him, but Louis doesn’t care.

“What are you on about, mate?” Nick begins, seconds before Louis smashes his fist into his face.

“You stay away from Harry,” Louis tells him once he’s laid out on the floor beneath them, a crowd of people turning to watch as Nick groans.

“You little bitch,” Nick is calling as Louis grabs Harry’s hand roughly, nearly dragging him from the club in his haste to get out. Once they stand outside, Louis lets out a strangled sound.

“You didn’t tell me Nick fucking Grimshaw was the arsehole ex-boyfriend,” Louis runs a hand through his hair, momentarily forgetting the fact that it took him an hour to get it looking the way he wanted.

“I can’t believe you hit him,” is all Harry says, eyes trained on the ground between them. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Fuck,” Louis leans against the wall and heaves a breath, blowing out a quiet laugh. “I was at school with him, Harry. I’ve wanted to hit him for years, mate. You just gave me an excuse.”

“Oh,” Harry nods, tucking his hands in his pockets. Louis doesn’t like the frown on his face, doesn’t like the way his eyes are suddenly sad again.

“Harry,” he starts, waiting for Harry to look up at him. “Do you want to go to a real party?”

*

By the time Louis’ phone tells him it’s midnight, Harry is dancing happily in the middle of a crowd of people, but his eyes are only on Louis.

“Dance with me,” he whines, coming up behind Louis at the bar. Louis has found that drinking makes Harry even cuddlier than usual, and he turns around to face him with a smile, letting Harry press him into the bar gently.

“I’ve danced with you all night, love,” he talks against his cheek, Harry leaning in to rest his forehead on Louis’ shoulder.

“Well dance with me more,” he whines again. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

“We don’t have to,” Louis has his hands on either side of Harrys hips, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

“I don’t want to go home at all,” Harry adds, bringing his head up to meet Louis’ eyes. His are glassy, glowing green in the flash of blue light that hits them as Louis brings his hand up to cup his jaw. He runs his thumb over Harrys bottom lip and Harry turns his head away, breaking his gaze.

He tugs him to the dance floor and doesn’t say anything else, Louis following him silently.

*

“Are you going to see him again?” Liam asks when Louis stops in to see him at work the next day.

“I think so, yeah,” Louis nods. “We had a lot of fun, I think. He seemed happy.”

“You seem happy,” Liam gives him a smile and Louis stifles a groan.

“Jesus Li, don’t give me that look.” Louis feels his face grow dark as he looks away. “He was dating Nick Grimshaw, that’s the guy he was with before. The one who messed him up.”

“Really?” Liam looks disgusted. “I hate that guy,” he says and Louis nods.

“Me too,” he leaves out the part about punching him, thinking it best to not agitate Liam too much. “He really hurt Harry.”

“You seem to care an awful lot, Lou,” Liam comments quietly. Louis knows he’s trying not to be obvious, but Liam does not have the talent of subtlety.  

“I like him,” Louis admits. “But I don’t know if it’s the best idea getting involved with someone so soon. Do you think it’s too soon?”

“I think you’re doing a lot better since you met him,” Liam keeps his focus on polishing the glass in his hands, which Louis appreciates.

“I just don’t know if I can be any good to him,” Louis confesses. “I think he needs someone stronger.”

Liam reaches out suddenly, fingers falling over the scars along the inside of Louis’ wrist. He squeezes gently, making Louis look up.

“There is no one as strong as you, Lou.” He tells him honestly, brown eyes sincere. “If you like him and he likes you, just go with it. What’s the harm in seeing what could happen?”

“You really think so?” Louis can hear how quiet he sounds, his voice coming out like a whisper.

“I do,” Liam nods. “Why don’t you bring him over so Ni and I can meet him? Maybe for dinner or something?”

“He’d rather go out,” Louis says quickly. “He doesn’t like dinner dates.”

“Then we can go out,” Liam turns his back to hide his smile. “Maybe Friday?”

“That could be okay.” Louis answers softly, fingers already tapping out a text to Harry on his phone.

*

Louis sits at a booth with Liam and Niall, searching over the heads of the crowd around them for Harry’s familiar curls.

“He’ll be here, mate,” Niall downs another shot with a smile.

“I know,” Louis shoots him a look, making Liam laugh. Louis ignores them, getting up when he spots Harry coming towards their table. Harry smiles when he sees him, pulling him into a hug.

“Hi,” Louis kisses his cheek, keeping one hand on Harry’s hip. Beside them, someone clears their throat.

“Oh, sorry,” Harrys looks to Zayn and smiles apologetically. “Lou, this is my flat mate, Zayn. Zayn, this is Louis.”

“Nice to meet you, Louis,” Zayn holds out his hand and smirks. “Harry’s told me all about you.”

“Has he?” Louis grins, quickly catching on to Zayn’s game. “Good things, I hope.”

“Wonderful things,” Zayn pulls him in for a surprisingly tight hug and Louis thinks he understands.

“Come meet Niall and Liam,” Louis says once he’s been released, taking Harry’s hand. He leads them to the table where the boys sit, smiling brightly.

“Boys, this is Harry and his mate Zayn. This is Niall and Liam,” he points to each of them in turn, looking to Harry to watch his response. Zayn however, proves to be the one worth watching.

“Hi,” he says, eyes directed at Liam. Liam who is staring at him with his mouth hanging open, hardly breathing.

“I’m going to go now.” Niall looks revolted as he gets up quickly, extracting himself from the currently unfolding Zayn and Liam situation. He smacks Harry on the shoulder gently. “Nice meeting you, mate. If you hurt Louis, I’ll break your nose and cut off your hair.”

“Niall!” Louis squeaks as Niall heads off to the bar, but Harry only laughs.

“Hi,” Liam has finally managed an answer, still staring. Zayn doesn’t seem to be doing any better, his eyes narrowed in on Liam like a predator.

“Maybe we should go as well,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear.

“Yes, good idea,” Louis agrees, leaving his coat with Harry’s before they disappear into the dancers. Harry keeps his hands on Louis’ waist, his mouth close to his ear as they dance. Louis still doesn’t know what it’s like to kiss him, but he’s found he doesn’t really care.

“I love this shirt on you,” Harry breathes against his skin, biting at his neck softly. Louis isn’t sure how he ended up with the most attractive boy in London, but he would like to thank every lucky star above for letting it happen.

*

“Well, they look busy,” Louis comments when he’s taking his second dancing break with Harry at the bar. He points with a wobbly hand to where Zayn and Liam are dancing and Harry snorts.

“I don’t know if I’m endeared or disgusted,” he remarks, finishing another drink. He’s swaying gently into Louis’ side, hands warm through the fabric of his sweater. It’s too hot, Louis thinks, Harrys voice at his ear making everything screech to a halt.

“Can I come over?” Harry asks. Every flirtatious sentence Louis has ever known in his life leaves his brain in that moment, leaving him fumbling for words.

“I’ve got a cat,” is all he can say. He really needs to consider throwing himself off a bridge. Harry pulls back, looking genuinely offended. Louis feels lucky to have had him as long as he did.

“Do you think he won’t like me?” Harry asks instead of telling him to fuck off and Louis might actually die.

“She,” he corrects softly. “And I think she’ll love you.” Louis smiles and Harry grins back, taking his hand.

“Take me home then, love.”

*

“I did tell you Niall and Liam live with me, right?” Louis asks worriedly when they get out of the taxi in front of his building. Harry is glued to his side, pressing against him with a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought you thought they liked me?” Harry questions, his breath so close it ghosts over Louis’ face as he talks.

“No, no, they loved you,” he assures him quickly, leading them up the staircase. He tries to ignore the slight tilt of the hallway as they walk, his eyesight fuzzing out around the edges gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew they lived here. Thought I should mention it, before-,”

“Before what?” Harry asks while Louis is trying to get his key into the lock and failing miserably. It would help if there weren’t three locks and four keys.

“Are you suggesting something is going to happen?” Harry continues and Louis thinks he’s probably kidding. “Are you planning on taking advantage of my drunken state, Lewis?”

“What?” Louis asks, pushing through the door finally, Harry close behind him. “If you’re teasing me, _Harold_ , it really isn’t funny—,”

Louis stops talking very quickly when Harry presses him to the wall. His hands stay right at his hips, whether to keep him close or hold him up or a little bit of both, Louis isn’t sure. Either way it’s nice, being so close. Louis reaches up to touch Harry’s face and forgets the keys in his hand, dropping them to the floor.

“Oops,” Harry smiles at him, laughing softly.

“Hi,” Louis answers, fingers resting against his neck. Harry blinks at him, face covered in shadows and hair twisted between Louis’ fingers.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” Harry whispers quietly, leaning just that much closer, voice making Louis’ knees give out more than any of the alcohol he’s had to drink.

“Okay,” Louis murmurs just as quietly and then Harry is kissing him. It’s a lot less frantic then he’d imagined it would be, much more soft than he was prepared for. His fingers dig into the back of Harry’s neck when he pulls him closer, one of Harry’s arms wrapping around the entirety of his back. The force of it pulls him up, making him stretch to his tiptoes as Harry breathes in harshly, as if the air has been sucked from his lungs.

It doesn’t go much further than that, Harry pulling back to pepper his cheeks with kisses before tucking his face into his neck. Louis holds him close and thinks that this is more important, this is what they need.

“Come to bed with me,” Louis whispers and Harry seems to understand what he means as he follows him down the hallway, holding his hand tightly.

*

Louis wakes up to an empty bed and a pounding headache. He reaches for the space where Harry should be and finds nothing but cold sheets. When he sits up, blinking sadly around the empty room, relief floods through him when he finds Harry’s jeans folded where he left them the night before.

He forces himself up after that, following the sounds floating through the flat to the kitchen. He doesn’t know what he expects to find, but Harry cooking breakfast at the stove with Niall sleeping on the floor and Liam and Zayn sitting much too close at the table is certainly not it.

“Morning, Lou,” Liam greets, smiling warmly. Beside him, Zayn gives a silent nod of his head.

“Hi,” Louis talks into Harry’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind.

“Hey, babe,” Harry touches Louis’ arm gently with one hand. “I’m making breakfast.”

“I can see that, love.” Louis nods, smiling into his skin. Darcy is sitting up on the counter, watching everything Harry does with sharp yellow eyes. Louis squeezes him once more before hopping up beside the stove as well, pulling Darcy into his lap.

Niall sits up suddenly, blinking around at them sleepily.

“Wild night lads,” he laughs. “How’d I get home?”

Louis feels himself laugh as well, watching Liam drop his head onto the counter with a groan while Zayn shakes his head. Beside him, Harry laughs loudly with his head thrown back, sharing a look with him that feels a lot like it means something.

*

Louis doesn’t tell Harry that his birthday is the day before Christmas because he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it. They aren’t so much together as they are not seeing anyone else, although Harry spends most of his time hanging around Louis’ flat.

That’s why he’s surprised to wake up on his birthday and find a sea of balloons surrounding his bed.

“Niall,” he groans, sitting up. It’s a struggle to get through the room. “Liam!” He calls, battling his way to the door.

“Wrong and wrong,” comes Harry’s voice, from where he stands in the open doorway. “Was I really last on the list?”

“Harry,” Louis feels himself smile before he thinks about it. He steps into Harry’s arms and doesn’t feel so angry anymore.

“I hope it’s okay,” Harry continues. “I may or may not have also prepared a cake.”

“A _cake?_ ” Louis asks, groaning again. Harry laughs into his hair, squeezing him tightly.

“You’re twenty-three!” He sing-songs, picking Louis up to spin him around in the hall.

“Stop reminding me,” Louis pulls away to swat at him. “I’ve got no say in whether or not I participate in the activities you have planned, do I?”

“’Fraid not,” Harry shrugs in mock sympathy. He puts his hand on Louis waist and pushes him down the hall.

In the living room, the boys sit on the couch waiting.

“Happy birthday, Lou.” Liam beams, all the boys wearing identical smiles.

“I hate you all,” Louis replies easily. Harry pinches him in the side. “I mean, _thank you_ , Liam.”

*

Louis hasn’t spent a birthday actually celebrating it in at least four years, so it’s strange to find himself dancing in the living room with his two best friends, Zayn, and the people they’ve invited to spend the night with them. Harry is there too, which is probably the best part.

Everyone loves the cake, everyone loves the music, everyone is having fun. Louis dances more than he has in months, with Harry’s hands on him all night. It’s a show of possession and he knows that everyone who sees them understands that they’re together, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

He lets Harry kiss him under the mistletoe hanging under the doorway to the kitchen, lets him press his back to the wall and frame his face with his big hands. He lets him tell the room that they are a couple, lets himself admit it finally.

“Happy birthday, Lou.” Harry whispers against his lips and for the first time in a long time, Louis agrees.

*

Christmas morning comes with a chorus of groans from each of the boys. Harry and Louis share his bed, emerging from the bedroom around two in the afternoon. Zayn and Liam have created a dog pile on the couch.

 Niall is a harder find, but eventually they find him passed out in the bathtub. Barbara is asleep in the armchair, wrapped up in Niall’s shirt. Darcy gives them all matching looks of contempt, clearly having not forgiven them for the activities of the previous night.

Once everyone is assembled in the kitchen around the dining room table, Harry cooks scrambled eggs and bacon, making a mess of the room.

Louis stays by his side, snuggling under his arm when he can. Harry seems to get it and he keeps one hand on Louis at all times. If anyone notices, no one says anything.

They exchange gifts in a circle under the Christmas tree in the living room, the smell of freshly baked cookies still hanging in the air.

Harry gives Louis a mixed CD and a pair of vans with smiley faces on them.

Louis thinks he gives Harry something much more important.

*

Louis likes winter for a lot of reasons but one of the more important is the fact that he gets to wear long sleeves a lot of the time. Another nice thing is that he gets to continue to wear sweaters until late into March and April. He’s pulling a sweater on now, hair still wet from his shower when Harry comes in to his room, wearing nothing but sweatpants.

Louis tries not to think bitterly about what it must be like to not worry about what you have on all of the time.

“Do you have to work tonight, Lou?” Harry is asking, sitting down on his bed.

“Not late,” Louis answers, looking at him curiously. “I’m off at seven. Why?”

“I want to make you dinner,” Harry smiles at him, but Louis only tilts his head.

“I thought you didn’t like dinner dates?”

“When did I say that?” Harry asks, smile slipping.

“When I first asked you out,” Louis answers, feeling more confused. “That’s why we went to see that band, remember?”

“Oh,” Harry nods, looking down. “I don’t have to then, it was just an idea.”

“No, hey,” Louis interrupts quickly, going closer to poke Harry in the cheek. “I didn’t mean I don’t want you to, silly. I just thought you didn’t like it. If you want to make dinner that would be lovely.”

“I want to make dinner,” Harry says again, looking up at him.

“I’ll be home by seven thirty then,” Louis leans down to kiss him, lips lingering along the side of his face. “Can’t wait to see you.”

“You haven’t even left yet,” Harry teases, but his hands are already pulling Louis closer by the waist, tugging him in to sit on his lap.

“There aren’t rules about missing people, Harold.” Louis whispers into his neck, kissing him there once before standing again. “I’ve got to go now though, don’t want to be late.”

“See you when you get back,” Harry calls as Louis leaves him alone in his bedroom. Louis can’t remember the last time he was actually excited to come home for dinner.

*

It smells like a restaurant has sprung up in his kitchen when Louis comes through the door at exactly 7:28.

“Harry?” He calls, going straight to the kitchen. Harry is waiting for him, smiling brightly. His curls are dusted with what looks like flour and he’s wearing an apron around his slim waist.

“Hi,” he starts, waving cheekily. Behind him, the dining room table is covered in various dishes. “I didn’t actually ask you what you wanted,” he explains, noticing Louis’ raised eyebrow. “So I made a little bit of everything.”

“Jesus,” Louis whispers, coming closer. He lets Harry tug him close, kissing him back on instinct. “This looks amazing,” he praises when Harry pulls back.

“You’ve got snow in your hair,” Harry reaches up to brush the ice from Louis’ bangs.

“You’ve got flour in yours,” Louis doesn’t bother trying to knock the powder from Harry’s curls.

“Come on,” Harry smiles and his eyes are bright like Louis loves as he leads him to the table. There are even candles lit amongst the food. Louis doesn’t understand why the universe gifted him with such a wonderful boy.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” Louis feels like he needs to say that, but Harry only shakes him off.

“I wanted to, Lou. I wanted to do something special,” he looks at his plate in a way that makes Louis think he’s hiding something.

“Is there any specific reason?” He asks, keeping his voice light.

“We met six months ago today,” Harry answers, voice equally light. Louis chokes on his first bite of chicken.

“We what,” Louis says, stricken, nearly dropping his fork in his surprise.

“No, no,” Harry interrupts his panic. “I didn’t expect you to remember, don’t freak out. It’s fine. I just wanted to do something, kind of like a thank you.”

“A thank you,” Louis repeats, confused again.

“You helped me through a lot,” Harry clarifies. “I was in a really bad place and you were always really good to me. You never asked questions I didn’t want to answer. You let me just be with you and I just want you to know how thankful I am for that.” He pauses, making sure Louis is looking at him when he finishes.

“I needed you,” he tells him seriously. “I’m so glad you stole Niall’s shift so that you could spy on me.”

“That little shit,” Louis rolls his eyes, all of the sweetness wiped away as Harry laughs. “Thank you Harold, for making me feel like a complete creep.”

“Not a complete one,” Harry shakes his head. “Besides, I liked it. So, who’s really the creep?”

“True, very true,” Louis agrees, looking to his own plate. The food suddenly doesn’t taste as good in his mouth, a betraying itch starting on the skin under his sweater, his arms tingling revealingly. “Harry—,”

“Louis, don’t be upset, please,” Harry stops him, holding up his hand. “Liam warned me you might not like this, but I did it anyway, so please don’t be upset with me.”

“I’m not upset with you,” Louis assures him with a pained expression. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, love. So, thank you.”

“But something’s still wrong?” Harry asks, piercing eyes watching Louis’ face carefully.

“I just,” Louis pauses and turns away, setting his fork down. “I want to be honest with you, like you’ve been with me.”

“Okay,” Harry sets his own fork down and puts his hands in his lap, looking concerned.

“I was sick,” Louis starts. “I was in the hospital for a while. I had only been out for about two and a half months when I met you.”

“What? I had no idea, Lou, oh God,” Harry starts babbling nonsense, leaning over to touch Louis’ hand and squeeze it between his fingers. Louis pulls away and leans back in his chair, out of Harry’s reach.

“I did it to myself,” Louis looks up and meets Harry’s eyes, sure it’ll be one of the last times he wants to look at him. “I was depressed,” he continues. “I tried to kill myself.”

“What?” Now Harry just looks confused. “You tried to—,”

“Kill myself.” Louis finishes for him, looking away. “I was just doing really badly and one night the boys didn’t come home and I was alone too long, I guess. It just happened. I don’t really remember it all, if I’m being honest.”

“Louis,” Harry breathes, moving around the table to sit on his knees in front of him. He reaches for Louis’ hand faster than he can think to pull away and before he can blink Harry has the fabric rolled up to his elbow, staring at his scars.

“I didn’t know,” he whispers, looking up at Louis with tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Harry,” Louis starts, pausing when Harry drops his face to his skin, kissing the inside of his wrist.

“I knew you’d tell me about them when you were ready,” Harry breathes against his skin, moving to kiss another mark. “I didn’t want to ask and be wrong. I’m so sorry,” he kisses him again and again, looking up finally with Louis’ knuckles pressed to his lips.

“You’re incredible,” Louis whispers, brushing his free hand through Harry’s hair. “You’re not even human, are you, Harry Styles? You can’t be.”

“Shut up,” Harry mutters around a smile, lifting up to kiss him gently. “Can we keep having dinner now?” He asks. “Or do you have more to share with the group?”

Louis somehow manages to laugh and flick Harry in the ear while still kissing him. He smiles against Harry’s mouth and feels his fingers pressed into his wrist and thinks that maybe this could really work.

*

“You need to do that more,” Louis sighs happily when they sit down on the couch together after putting all the leftovers into the fridge. Harry preens beside him, snuggling into his side. “Why don’t you do that more, love? You’re such a good cook, you must have had lots of practice. What made you stop?”

“I stopped doing a lot of things,” Harry tells him quietly. “I just didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“But now you do?” Louis asks, little incredulous. “You want to have dinner dates again because of me?”

“Why is that so hard for you to believe?” Harry sits up and looks at Louis seriously. “I don’t like dinner dates because they used to mean Nick wanted to tell me something I was doing wrong,” Harry explains. “I like them with you because they don’t mean that. They just mean I wanted to make dinner and you like eating my food.”

“I do love your cooking,” Louis agrees, touching Harry’s face. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“What?” Harry chokes, blinking quickly. Louis sucks in a breath and leans back, realizing what he’d said.

“I—,” he starts and then clamps his mouth shut, thinking. Is it such a bad thing, he wonders, to maybe, possibly love Harry? Harry is good, everything good that Louis has never had so close to his fingertips. Harry is warmth and kindness, he is soft and gentle, everything Louis has always wanted to understand. Harry is a soul that Louis wants to have near him always. Harry is something Louis loves.

Thinking about it more, Louis doesn’t know how he didn’t see it sooner. He can’t remember ever wanting to look at someone as much as he wants to look at Harry. Or loving to hear someone say his name quite as much. He can’t remember ever wanting to kiss someone so badly his lips felt like they were burning, or loving the way a person’s hands felt in his. Louis can’t remember ever loving someone the way he loves Harry and that’s when he knows.

“I love you,” he whispers and Harry’s eyes go wide.

“I love you, Harry. So much,” Louis kisses him then, not bothering to wait for his response. He kisses him like he’s been dying to, pressing him back into the couch with hands on his shoulders. He gets one knee in between Harry’s legs to pin him down and he doesn’t even dream of stopping for air, fingers knotting in Harry’s curls.

He lets it go further than before, Harry’s hands ghosting over the scars that litter up the skin of his arms. He lets him squeeze the ones on his hips and waist, the ones that go lower and crisscross over his thighs. He lets him see them and he lets him touch them with his fingers, lets him finally see everything there is to see. Harry doesn’t say anything, but later, when he kisses a white line on Louis’ stomach, Louis thinks he understands.

*

When Louis wakes up, he realizes immediately that something is wrong. He opens his eyes and finds the bed empty. Unlike the first time it happened, when he looks to where Harry’s clothes had been thrown the night before and finds them gone, and his heart picks up speed in his chest. He’s up and moving across his bedroom, looking for any sign of Harry.

His hat hanging from the unused lamp in the corner is gone. The coat he left a month before has vanished from where it was laying on the back of the couch. The toothbrush he kept on Louis’ side of the sink is missing. Every sign of him, everything he left behind to show his presence in Louis’ life has faded away as if it never was. Louis feels a lot like he can’t breathe when he makes it to the kitchen.

The only things left behind are the dishes, washed and waiting beside the sink. The packed up food in the fridge makes him want to throw up, his insides screaming at him that he should have known better. He’s stupid, still, after all this time. He gives too much, lets it get snatched out from under him in an instant of weakness. Louis _knew_ better.

His hands shake as he picks his phone up from the counter. He holds it to his ear and feels like it takes years for Liam to pick up.

“Li?” He asks, voice shaking. “Can you come over please? I don’t want to do anything bad again.”

*

Niall and Liam refuse to let him out of their sight the first four days. They hover over him incessantly, cuddling him while he cries and keep the flat stocked with enough junk food to keep him satisfied. No one mentions Harry. No one talks about the shirt Louis keeps on his pillow or the sweatpants he refuses to take off.

*

On the seventh day, Liam is alone with Louis on the couch watching a sappy movie. Niall is at work and Louis bundled up in three blankets.

“I thought I loved him, Liam.” He sniffles quietly.

“Lou,” Liam puts his arm around his shoulders and pulls him into his lap. “You did love him, that’s why it hurts so much.”

*

Zayn comes over around the second week, looking ragged. He goes to Liam immediately and hugs him tightly, letting go when Louis walks into the room.

“Hi, Louis,” he steps back and gives Louis the choice to kick him out or let him stay.

Louis only nods.

*

When they finally leave Louis home alone it’s been twenty-one days. He sits on the floor in the bathroom and drinks a bottle of vodka even though he knows he shouldn’t. The burn in his throat feels good, the scorch in his veins a wonderful kind of pain.

He misses the knocking at the door until it turns to banging. Dragging himself up he stumbles down the hall, feet catching on the too long hem of his sweatpants. He leans against the door and goes to look through the peephole, stumbling back when he hears the voice on the other side.

“Louis?” Harry asks through the door. “Are you home? Lou? Lou, please, open the door.”

Louis doesn’t think, just reaches out and unlocks the door, swinging it open despite the way his heart constricts.

Seeing Harry again is a lot like seeing him the first time.

Louis sucks in a sharp breath and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He knows he must look a mess, hair too long and clothes disgusting, but, he realizes with a touch of something like satisfaction, Harry looks even worse.

His hair is greasy and hidden messily in a beanie, his eyes lined with dark circles, clothes looking too big on his already thin frame. He smiles weakly when he sees Louis, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I should shut the door in your face,” Louis tells him, thinking about doing just that. His foggy brain is trying to tell him something that sounds a lot like that, he’s sure of it.

“If you want to do that, I’ll understand.” Harry says and he’s so sincere Louis wants to hit him really hard in the jaw. Instead, he steps back and lets Harry inside. He goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, even though he’s already feeling sober, and Harry follows.

“Did you forget something when you left?” Louis asks, voice harsh. He keeps his back turned away, hands shaking.

“Lou—,”

“If there’s something you need,” Louis continues, “just go and get it.”

“Louis, please,” Harry steps closer and Louis freezes, unprepared for him to reach out and touch the back of his neck. His shoulders slump before he can stop them and he blames the tears on the alcohol running through his veins. He tells himself it doesn’t matter that Harry is here, doesn’t matter that Harry is touching him again. He pretends he doesn’t like it when Harry wraps his arms around him from behind, pretends his didn’t miss the way it felt to be in his arms.

“Lou, darling,” Harry murmurs nonsense into his ear and presses kisses to his neck, but none of it is what Louis wants to hear. He struggles to get out of his grip, managing to twist away before Harry gets his hands around his face.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, pressing kisses to Louis’ cheeks. “God, I’m sorry. I panicked. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You left,” Louis accuses hoarsely. “You left me.”

“Louis,” Harry makes a strangled noise, pulling him close again. “I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean it. I was scared. I’m so sorry.”

“Scared of what?” Louis seethes, pushing him away with weak arms. “You didn’t even give me an answer back, you just went to sleep. And then I woke up and you were just gone.”

“Louis,” Harry reaches out again, but Louis swats him away.

“Just get out, Harry,” he turns away. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Louis—,”

“Just get out!” Louis crosses his arms and waits, but Harry doesn’t leave like he expects.

“If you didn’t want to talk to me,” Harry starts, hesitant. “Then why did you open the door?”

“Oh, fuck off!” Louis wheels around, eyes blazing. “Fuck you! Get out of my flat, I don’t want you here.”

“Louis,” Harry begs, stepping forward. “Please—,”

“Harry, get out.” Louis’ voice has dropped to a whisper and it scares Harry more than when he yelled. “I want you to leave. Now.”

Harry doesn’t fight him anymore. He turns to leave and then reaches into his coat, setting a letter on the counter. He leaves without saying anything else and Louis doesn’t know how he ends up on the floor, but that’s suddenly where he is. He hugs his knees to his chest and cries into his folded arms, the salt stinging fresh cuts.

This time, the pain doesn’t feel like he wants it to.

*

“I’m so worried about him,” Liam whispers to Zayn while they sit on the balcony together. Zayn puffs out a breath of smoke, nodding.

“Harry too,” he agrees. “It’s a mess.”

“How did this happen?” Liam pulls the blanket they share tighter over his shoulders. “I thought maybe he would get over it, it’s been a few months.”

“Me too,” Zayn blows another smoke ring into the sky. “Harry loves Christmas. I thought maybe it would help make him feel better, but it’s made it worse.”

“Remember last Christmas?” Liam thinks out loud. “We were so happy.”

“I really thought Harry was serious about him,” Zayn murmurs. “I really thought that it would last. I thought he’d finally found someone he could be himself with. He was writing music again, he was singing, playing guitar. He was doing so good.”

“I wanted Louis to be happy,” Liam sighs. “I just wanted him to really be happy.”

“Boys,” Niall comes outside behind them, holding a notebook and a six pack of beer. “I have a plan.”

*

Louis stares at the unopened letter on his bedside table and thinks about opening it for the hundredth time since Harry left it. He hasn’t seen him since April, hasn’t spoken to him since the night he came over. It’s December now and his birthday is in two days.

He wants to throw up most of the time, finds it hard to keep food down. It had been too soon, he’d known that. Now he has to deal with the mess Harry left him with. Now he has to deal with Harry leaving him.

“Lou?” Niall knocks once before opening the door. Louis knows he should be up, but most days he just can’t.

“I’m going to work now,” he tells him. “I’ve got to set up for the party we’re hosting for Christmas. Did you think any more about working that night with us?”

“I did,” Louis sits up with only minimal effort, Niall sitting down beside him. “I think I’d like to. I think it will keep my mind off my birthday.”

“Great, mate,” Niall smiles and he means it, squeezing Louis’ shoulder tightly. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Louis looks away before he can catch the glint in Niall’s eye. He misses the flash of hope across his face. Instead, he sighs once, a signal Niall knows well as the one that means for him to leave.

*

The bar is lit with fairy lights, the tables set with white table cloths and red and green china. Everything is expensive looking, Louis thinks. He’s twenty-four today. He hates it.

The people in the room distract him, ordering drink after drink and letting him get lost in the sensation of working again. He laughs and flirts his way through the night, sharing looks with Niall and Liam behind the bar. He’s finishing up a group order of rounds when he hears him, the one person he wasn’t expecting.

“Can I get a shot of tequila, please?”

Louis turns to face Harry with a smile, refusing to show him any sign of weakness.

“You got it,” he pauses for only a second, “love.”

It works the way he wants it to. The way he knows it will.

Harry flinches, eyes flashing with hurt before he looks down. Louis sets his drink beside him and moves on, ignoring the fact that Harry sits down instead of leaving to join whoever it is he came with. He can feel his eyes tracking his movements as he works.

“Another?” He asks and Harry only nods.

Niall and Liam don’t ask to switch sections with him and that’s his first clue that they knew. Looking back, he remembers the way they’d dropped hints about getting him to work at the party. They’ve known all along then, planned it out probably. He doesn’t feel anger, like he thinks he should, just disappointment.

He refills Harry’s glass until he knows he shouldn’t. Eventually he takes it from him, dropping it into a dirty dish bin instead of handing it back.

“I want more,” Harry slurs, looking up at him in confusion.

“You’re not getting any more, Harry.” Louis shakes his head, keeping his voice stern. “Who’d you come with? Zayn?”

“Yeah, Zayn,” Harry mutters, looking away from him.

“I’ll get him,” Louis turns away and Harry reaches out over the bar, grabbing his arm. “Harry—,”

“Did you read my letter?” Harry asks, eyes fierce.

“Harry,” Louis tries in vain to pull away.

“Did you?” Harry repeats, fingers digging in too tightly. “Just tell me you at least read it. Even if you didn’t care what it said, did you read it?”

“I didn’t,” Louis admits and Harry releases him like he’s been burned.

“Harry, mate, you’ve had enough,” Zayn is there suddenly, Liam too, each of them taking one of Harry’s arms.

Louis watches them walk him out, watches Zayn hug Liam before following Harry across the road to their building. Louis turns away from his row of customers and walks around the bar, pushing past Niall when he tries to stop him. He runs into Liam half way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Liam asks, holding him in place with hands on his shoulders.

“I’ve got to go,” Louis tries to shove around him, but Liam is too strong. “Liam, I’ve got to go home. I can’t be here anymore.”

Liam lets go with a nod and Louis takes off.  

*

The letter is waiting for him where he left it. His name is written across the front and he takes care not to rip it as he opens it.

“ _Louis_ ,” it reads. “ _If you’re reading this it means you were too stubborn to let me talk to you. I don’t blame you, love, honestly. It’s my fault for leaving. I’m sorry for running away, I’m sorry for not telling you the truth. You deserve someone who can stay and take care of you and I was too afraid that I couldn’t do that. I love you, Louis. I love you with everything I have in me to love someone with, but I don’t think it will ever be enough for you. I’ve never felt the way I feel for you with anyone and it is terrifying. I’m terrified, love. I want to give you all of me, and I don’t know how to do that.  I hope you can forgive me for everything I’ve done. I hope you can understand why I was afraid._

_I love you,_

_Harry_.”

Louis can’t breathe. He can’t. He presses his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming and focuses on the task of getting air into his lungs.

Harry loves him.

Loved him.

Harry loves him.  

When he can finally make himself move, Louis stuffs the letter in his pocket and grabs his coat from off the floor. He’s back outside before he can change his mind.

*

Zayn answers the door on the third knock.

“Lou,” he hesitates, Louis sees it, but then he lets him in. “I just got him to lie down. I’m so sorry, we didn’t think it would happen like that.”

“It’s fine,” Louis waves his comment away. “I need to see him.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea—,” Louis hands the letter to Zayn to shut him up, waiting impatiently while he reads it. Zayn looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “He gave you this?”

“A month after he walked out,” Louis nods. “I just read it tonight.”

“You didn’t know,” Zayn shakes his head, laughing. “Honestly, Louis. You didn’t know?”

“He left,” Louis feels like someone should understand that.

“But I came back.” Harry leans against the doorway to his room. Louis stares down the hallway at him, mind going blank. He wears nothing but a pair of skinny trackies and Louis thinks he’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Zayn quickly excuses himself, disappearing into a room Louis assumes is his.

“Why did you come?” Harry asks flatly, crossing his arms.

“I read your letter,” Louis fumbles, wondering how he became the one who needed an explanation.

“And?” Harry tilts his head at him. “What did you think?”

“I think you should have told me,” Louis will not be the one to give in first. He’s come too far, been through too much.

“I tried,” Harry reminds him, coming forward a few steps. “I came over to talk to you and you kicked me out.”

“You should have tried again,” Louis flails his arms at his sides, feeling helpless.

“I left the letter,” Harry’s eyes are the only thing giving him away. “I thought if you read it, you would understand.”

“Well,” Louis is furious at the entire situation. He really, really is. “I read it.”

“Louis,” Harry stops in front of him, arms still crossed against his chest. “I was just as messed up as you were, maybe not in the same way, but I was. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship. I panicked, love,” he reaches out finally, cupping Louis’ face in one hand. “But even then, I knew I loved you.”

“ _Harry,_ ” Louis whispers, leaning into his touch. “You ruined me.”

“I know,” Harry steps closer, leaning down to press his forehead into Louis’. “You ruined me too.”

*

It’s late when they get to bed, Louis tucked against Harry’s chest.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry murmurs, voice heavy with sleep. “Did I tell you happy birthday?”

“I don’t think so,” Louis answers, kissing his neck. “It’s alright though. There were some other things going on.”

“Oh,” Harry nods. “It’s Christmas now.”

“Yes it is,” Louis stifles a laugh. “Go to sleep, Harry.”

Harry turns over without warning, flipping Louis so that he’s wrapped around him, his back pressed to Louis’ chest.

“Happy Christmas, Lou,” Harry breathes into his hair.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Louis brings one of Harry’s hands up to his mouth, kissing his palm before tucking his arm tighter around him.

*

“I love you,” Harry whispers sometime later, when they’re both supposed to be asleep.

“I love you, too,” Louis answers softly. He thinks that this time it doesn’t feel like a weakness, but something more like strength.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty well I hoped you enjoyed that roller coaster hot damn. 
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!](http://allyouneedisteaandlove.tumblr.com)
> 
> much love to my wallflowers xx


End file.
